All My Pain Is Bottled Affection
by nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: Nothing, not even a threat on his own life, would have made Alec abandon Jace. But there was nothing after them now, they had already won. The only danger was the cold. And Jace bleeding out. *Takes place before City of Bones.


All around him, snow whirled, falling slowly, coating the ground in a thin layer of pure white. Everything shimmered and shone, trees and buildings, giving New York a pristine look. It was not true, of course; New York was anything but clean. Underneath the snow were layers and layers of dirt and grime and mess. Alec glanced over his shoulder and saw a thin trail of crimson marring the milky surface of the snow. Drops of red, standing out boldly against the white. Maybe not all of the mess was covered.

Alec grunted and shifted Jace's weight against his side, hefting up a little higher.

"Just leave me," Jace said with a dramatic flair, flinging his free arm over his forehead. "Abandon me in the snow and go on alone."

"Stop being such a baby," Alec said, rolling his eyes. "We are almost at the Institute."

"I am serious, though," Jace's voice changed, losing its joking tone. Alec could feel Jace straightening up against him, setting his shoulders, preparing for an argument. "I am slowing you down. It might be faster if you bring help back, instead of carrying me all the way."

Alec did not slow his pace, he kept trekking forward, ignoring Jace's suggestion. "Don't be stupid, I am not going to leave you."

What Alec did not bother to say, what was not worth saying out loud, was that Alec would never think of leaving Jace. Jace was his brother, his parabatai. Nothing, not even a threat on his own life, would have made Alec abandon Jace. But there was nothing after them now, they had already won. The only danger was the cold. And Jace bleeding out.

"I am never stupid," Jace said petulantly. "You are stupid."

"No?" Alec prodded, thinking back to the fight they had just been in, to how they had come to find themselves in this situation, how Jace had been hurt. "Which one of us managed to have his leg broken and twisted, badly enough that a rune in the field can't fix it? Which one of us has bits of bone sticking out of his calf?"

Jace stuck out his tongue.

They went on their way, walking as quick as Alec could manage, bearing the weight of the other boy. He had not been lying before; the Institute was close. And once they got there, Alec knew everything would be taken care of. Alec could see the towering spires hovering in the distance.

On his neck, Alec could feel Jace's breathing getting more haggard, getting tougher. Jace was putting more and more weight onto Alec. Alec was worried.

"When did you get so heavy?" Alec asked, glancing at the blond boy, trying to get Jace talking, which was usually not hard to accomplish.

Jace turned his head and looked straight at Alec. His eyes were unfocused, hazy. There was a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth - not his normal smirk, not ironic or callous like Jace's smiles sometimes were, but a genuine one.

Lazily, Jace reached out his free hand, the one not thrown over Alec's shoulder, and ran it through Alec's hair. "I wonder," he said dreamily, "if you have enough hair to tie into a ribbon."

Alec's heart started to beat faster, speeding up in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath. It's the blood loss, he told himself, it's only the blood loss. It was making Jace loopy, making him not act like himself.

"What are you talking about?" Alec asked.

"Your hair," Jace said, tugging on a lock of it affectionately. "It would look like a present. Just in time for Christmas."

For someone who seemed to be out of it, Jace had a certain grasp for the basics. Christmas was soon. The Institute was already decorated, with twinkling lights all around and a large tree in the study, ready to be covered in holiday cheer. As far back as Alec could remember, since the Lightwoods had been at the New York Institute, it was always the same.

Alec remembered the first year Jace had been with them for the holiday. He had been shocked that they celebrated, that they decorated. He had read about Christmas in books, Dickens and Austen, but Valentine had never done anything out of the ordinary for the holiday.

The first time Jace even got a Christmas present, he was eleven. Jace had gotten gifts before, mostly from Valentine and mostly for his birthday. Terrible gifts. Gifts meant to teach a lesson. But it was not the same, Jace did not understand. Alec still remembered that Christmas morning clearly. How he and Izzy had been so excited, had woken Jace up, and pulled him downstairs. How Jace had stared at the pile of shiny wrapped gifts under the tree distrustfully, crossed his arms, refused to participate. It wasn't until Maryse handed him a package with his name on it, that he had smiled.

That young boy, who was not sure of his place, who thought to love something was to destroy it, had grown up. And he had grown up into someone who did not do the holiday by halves. He embraced it fully, from then on. Of course he did, it was everything he loved, gifts and shiny beautiful things. Jace had come to practically orchestrate Christmas in the Lightwood home.

"Have you gotten something for Izzy yet?" Alec asked, prodding Jace to keep him going, "You know she will be angry if it's not perfect."

"Izzy's not the trouble," Jace said, with a resigned sigh. "You are."

"What do you mean?" Alec asked, enjoying this sharing version of Jace despite himself. "I am sure I will like whatever you choose for me."

Jace dropped his head onto Alec's shoulder and shook it once, as if burrowing himself into place. "I can give Izzy what she wants. I can even give Max what he wants. But you, Alec, I can't give you what you want."

Alec gulped. Jace was so close to him, pressed up against his side, arms around each other and heads bent together. He could feel every breath the other boy took, every movement he made. Alec knew when the wind blew one of Jace's blond curls, when he fluttered his golden eyelashes. Yet in some ways, Jace had never been further away. His words stretched in the non-existent space between them, spreading and elbowing their way into Alec's mind.

He knew he was not very good at hiding his feelings. Alec had never been good at that. He said what he meant. Always. Well, almost always. About everything but this. Apparently he had not fooled Jace. But now, when Jace was injured and out of his mind, was the wrong time to discuss Alec's biggest secret.

"What I want," Alec said shortly, "is a new set of knives."

They were edging up on the Institute now, and Robert was hurrying out of the doorway, toward the boys, a worried look on his face. There was no more time for this conversation.

But as Jace was carried away, he looked back at Alec. And though his golden eyes were still cloudy and confused looking, there was something else in them too. A sadness. A sadness for Alec. Maybe even pity.

Alec looked away, casting his eyes back, to where they had come from, to the blood-stained snow. It was just the blood loss, he repeated to himself.

Alec sat on his bed, on Christmas afternoon, staring at the gift Jace had given him that morning. A new set of throwing knives. They were beautifully done, with intricately carved hilts and perfectly balanced blades. They would fly well. Yet all Alec could think about, as he ran his fingers over the steel, was what it could mean.

This is what he had asked for. On that day, in the snow. He said he wanted knives. They hadn't talked about that day again, other than to recount the fight to Hodge. Alec had been shocked, that morning, when he unwrapped the present from Jace to find the fine weapons.

"Hey," Jace said, coming in, not bothering to knock on the door. He never did. "You didn't say anything before, when you got my gift. What do you think?"

There was an anxious look on his face, real worry. Jace seemed so earnest. And Alec found himself giving a reassuring smile. "They are amazing."

"They aren't just for Christmas," Jace said, "They are meant as a thank you." He took a breath and looked up, meeting Alec's eyes straight on. "I don't remember much about the day I broke my leg, but I know that you carried me all the way home."

Alec shrugged, "You would have done the same for me."

"Of course," Jace blew off with a wave of his hand.

The dark haired boy looked down at his new knives, training his thumb over the sharp edge, careful not to cut himself. "You don't remember anything?"

"I remember the fight," Jace said, "but not much on how we got back. I was pretty loopy after Hodge finished with me. So if I said something, or I did something..." he trailed off, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow shrug.

Alec met Jace's eyes, blue clashing with gold, and he searched for what Jace could mean. Did he really not remember at all? Was he just giving him a way out? Either way, Jace was offering him peace. His secret was not out yet. They were not going to talk about it.

"You didn't say anything," Alec lied, shaking his head once, firmly. "Mostly you just babbled about ribbons and Christmas."

"And you didn't write it down?" Jace feigned shock. "I am sure even my incoherent ramblings are pure gold." He paused, his hand on his heart, and gave Alec a serious look. "But you and I, we are good, right?"

Alec pushed himself up off the bed, grabbing his new knives as he went. "Come on, let's go train with the gift you got me. I will show you just how 'good' we are."

"I'll just stand by the target, then, shall I?" Jace asked, mimicking Alec's dry tone.

Alec shot a quick smirk in Jace's direction, equilibrium restored between them. Nothing was different. Everything was still the same. They could go on as they always had, for a little while longer.


End file.
